Chapter 45: It’s Finished

The whole mansion shuddered.

The whole world seemed to shudder as the male repeatedly slammed into the bars of his cell, his shoulders, and neck taking most of the impact.

The wolf was snarling, saliva stringing from his jowls as he backed up once again, tucked his head in tight, and dove at the bars of steel.

Again and again.

Again and again.

Again and again.

And he didn't pause once, even as blood dripped from his mouth and nose, pooling on the concrete floor.

Clint couldn't help but watch the male with a mixture of awe and a hint of sorrow.

The bars were designed to withstand extreme force, the force that a rabid, feral wolf would try to use to escape.

Either, the male would be ignored by the wolves above, or, most likely, he'd knock himself out.

Clyde is dead.

Clyde is dead.

He is dead.

Clint shook his head, letting his head fall back on the cold wall.

He was dead...

'How?' He asked himself. 'Who killed him? Where are they right now? I do not hear any signs of panic...'

Clint's wolf began to rise, growling its restlessness. But, instead of letting the animal take over, he pushed it back down.

Now was not the time to lose his mind. He had to keep a straight head, especially if there had been an incident.

"Finnian." He growled, trying to get the male's attention on him, and off of the poor, unmoveable steel bars.

The wolf didn't even flick an ear his way, all the male did, was crouch low, rock back on his haunches, and soar towards the bars, his body turning slightly at the last moment so that his right shoulder would take the impact.

A sickening crunch sounded, nearly causing Clint to wince.

Finnian let out a guttural yelp as he pulled away from the bars, a slight limp replacing his once determined, dangerous gait.

But, he still turned around, facing the bars once more, and ran full speed at them.

"Damn idiot," Clint growled, still watching as the male picked himself up off the floor, a growl escaping his no doubt bruised throat.

"Are you done yet?" He asked with a shake of his head.

Finnian growled, backing up once more, his dark eyes flashing.

Dark, familiar eyes...

The bang of a skull against metal had him nearly rolling his eyes.

"Why are you acting in this manner?"

A grunt escaped Finnian as he shook his head back and forth, a mixture of blood and saliva flinging from his foam-laced mouth.

Clyde.

Clyde.

Clyde.

Oh God, what had happened to Clyde?

'Calm. Stay calm.' Clint told himself fiercely, but there was a part of him that didn't heed his words.

If Clyde were indeed dead...

Where were the Alpha pair?

Where...

Where was Adeline, the female that Clyde had wanted as his own.

Even now, howls still rippled throughout the mansion, but, instead of panicked, confused ones, these were sad... angry.

And, amongst all of the cries of pain, he had not heard a single note from the Alphas.

He knew the dominant wolves could hold their own in a fight, especially if they were together... but they weren't invincible.

Had they also perished? Had their death been covered by the apparent death of Clyde? Was that why it had been so shocking... so painful? Was that why there was a twisting, aching pain in his gut, squeezing his insides with a fist made of pure, solid metal?

Was that why his heart had ceased to beat? The organ weighted down by tons upon tons of secrets that threatened to spill from him; threatened to

Then, just as he was about to call out to the bleeding male once more, he heard a male's voice in his mind, speaking through the packlink.

'Clyde Amole, the former Beta of the Southern Pack, is dead.' Dillon said, his voice rough with emotion.

Questions immediately flooded the packlink, voices a mixture of tears and confusion, even fear.

Was there an assassin?

Where was Clyde's body?

Were their pups, their mates safe to stay?

Dillon all reassured them all with gentle, understanding words, but there was an underlying tone that laced his words.

Clint frowned.

'Who killed him, Dillon?' A warrior asked, her voice small and slight.

There was a long pause of hesitance; a silence that settled over the whole pack, even the wolves outside, hunting and training, halted, their heads craning up at the looming building.

Even the birds in the trees silenced their chatter, either from the air of tension lifting up towards the rising Moon, or the appearance of a Great-Horned Owl, it's talons clutching the branch of an old, aging oak.

Two ancient creatures, standing stark against the early night moonlight.

The silence was shattered, as if a hunter's bullet had pierced it. The shards rained down, puncturing Clint's heart... ripping into it... covering it in a coat of cold nothingness.

No.

No!

'We had found him strangling Adeline... my pup, and this pack's heir. The moment he even thought about harming her, his life was forfeit. He was a walking dead man.′

"Oh, gods..." Clint cursed, his eyes flashing to the raging wolf across from him.

Clyde had wanted Adeline to be his mate...

But, when they had dragged Finnian's limp body in, practically throwing him into his cell, the warriors had said something along the lines of, "let's pray that no one is stupid enough to mess with that female. She practically has a pack of her own that is willing to kill... and die for her."

No male would act that way for just any female...

Finnian was Adeline's mate!

And that meant...

Clyde hadn't been hers'...

He continued to stare at the male, a river of emotions flooding his tortured and wrecked soul.

Had Clyde discovered that Adeline had already found her mate, and it wasn't him?

But, even if she wasn't his mate, why try to kill her?

Finnian let out a howl as he rammed into the bars again, the bang rattling the floor beneath them.

Turning his head back toward the door that would, hopefully, release him in a matter of days, he got his answer.

'Clyde had been keeping a secret from all of us.' Dillon continued before any members could respond. 'He was the son of Alpha Joseph and Luna Clara. But not by blood, but he was bidding his time, perhaps waiting for the day he would be able to take over.'

"I want Adeline to be mine; my mate, my everything." Clyde had said once. It seemed like decades ago that he had whispered that, but, in reality, it had been less than a week ago.

I want Adeline to be mine; my mate, my everything.

I want Adeline to be mine; my mate, my everything.

If he had truly been the former alphas' adoptive son...

It made sense now.

Many males never uttered a word of possibly finding their mate, due to the fear of another male challenging him for her; let alone hope that a female would be theirs, even before their eighteenth birthday.

If she had truly been Clyde's mate-- and he really had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to take over-- all they would've had to do, was complete the mating ceremonies.

If they had been mates, Clyde would've been alpha... just like that.

Clint didn't know how to feel.

He had grown up with the male, he had trained and fought beside him during the reign of the former alphas, he had talked to him, shaken his hand!

They had been friends too, once... before everything had gone down.

Once, they had even considered each other brothers, not by blood, but by trust and friendship. Clyde had watched his back whenever Alpha Joseph flew into a fit of rage; and Clint had watched his back, too, whenever Luna Clara was on the hunt for another body to warm her bed.

They had watched out for each other for years and years, but that all changed in the blink of an eye.

A crack had diverged between their souls, and no length of forgiveness or reconciliation could reconnect them.

It took years to gain the complete trust of someone, but, only seconds to destroy it.

Their trust in each other had been blown up into nothing more just shards of rubble, so small and disfigured, that it would never be able to be pieced back together.

But, as Finnian raged on, howling out his frustration, Clint couldn't help but feel slightly joyful.

Clyde had brought it upon himself, the moment he laid a hand on Adeline.

And, Clint knew that if he had been there, if he had been the one to find the male strangling her, he would've killed him too.

Thank the Moon high above, that Clint hadn't been the one to find him.

Clyde would've been dead as quickly as he would've stormed into the room.

But, as the ground continued to shudder from the waring wolf, Clint also felt a wave of relief flood through him.

The death that Finnian would've given him, would've been much too severe.

But, then again, they were Lupis males.

If someone laid a hand on a female or pups, then their death was in the mate's hands.

Pack laws didn't apply to them, when the laws of nature came calling.

????

'It's ready.' Sasha thought as she stared down at the bubbling and foaming mess.

It had been nearly three days since she had started the brew, and, as each day passed, the smell worsened until it was nearly unbearable to sleep in the same hall as it.

And, Adeline's eighteenth birthday was in two days. Two days to get to Alabama, locate the witch, kill her, and break the curse.

But, she had never smelled such as promising, or welcomed, scent before.

And, now as she stood over it, staring down at the bubbling pot, the smell nearly knocked her over.

All of the solid ingredients had melted down to nothing more than a mushy substance, either from the high heat of the stove, or the magic beginning to take hold.

And, it smelled so terrible, that it brought tears to her eyes...

"It is indeed ready." She whispered, looking away from the pot to look at her mate.

Desmond's nose was wrinkled, and his face had a greenish hue to it; but he still managed to flash her a smile, but it looked like he was suppressing the urge to vomit.

She smiled. "Go tell the Alphas that its ready. And that it's about time they go visit a certain Bruja matron."

He was more than eager to leave.